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My dreams are different, and people tell me they’re cool.

Nearly all of my dreams are recurring, but not in the traditional sense. I’m not naked in class or flying or being chased by something. Instead, the settings of my dreams are the recurring part.

Almost every night in my sleep I go to one of a handful of places: a theme park in the middle of a city, an enormous, sprawling shopping mall, a forest with a large glade in the middle, to name a few.

I take in my surroundings- the trees, the shops, the rides, and I have the most vivid memories of the experiences I’ve had there. Seeing the costume shop reminds me of the Carnival mask I almost bought there. Hearing the cars on the tracks brings back the time I swallowed a bug on the second loop of the roller coaster. My mind has gone to these places for years while my body rests.

But a week ago the trees in the forest were withered and dying. On Monday the Round-Up ride at the amusement park had collapsed. On Thursday the concessions stand was on fire, and I woke up smelling burnt popcorn. Last night I found a wing of the mall abandoned and dilapidated. I slipped on beads from the chandelier that had shattered on the ceramic tiling, and this morning I had bruises from where I’d hit the ground.

My dreams are different, and people tell me they’re cool. But now they’re collapsing, and I’m afraid they’re taking me with them.

Credits to: Promiscuous_Sinatra


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